have to weed your garden after all. But when you’re done, promise you’ll join us?”
“If you’re still in the forest picking berries.”
Gwenellen nodded. “We’ll probably still be there. You know we always eat one for every one we drop in my basket.”
Allegra laughed as she glanced at Jeremy patting his round tummy. “I know. Just try not to eat so many that you can’t make it back in time to sup.”
“Have you ever known me to be late for supper?” With her laughter ringing on the air, the fair-haired lass danced off to the forest in search of her berries, with the little troll racing to keep up.
Just then Allegra’s grandmother, Wilona, made her way along the neat rows of the garden, and paused beside her granddaughter, bent to her hoeing. “You’re doing a fine job, Allegra.”
The lass paused to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand. “I enjoy watching the tender shoots breaking through the ground, Gram. The birth of each small plant is such a wondrous thing.”
“Aye.” Wilona smiled at this. It was so typical of her eldest granddaughter. Despite her practical nature, Allegra had the most tender of hearts. She could do the work of three people, then take on another chore, just to give her sisters a chance to swim or bask in the early-summer sun.
The older woman glanced around. “Where are your sisters?”
“Kylia is down by the stream, no doubt already splashing like a fish.”
The old woman shared a smile with her. “Aye. That one does love the water. Let’s just hope she remembers to fetch some of those fish for our supper. And Gwenellen?”
“Off in the forest with Jeremy, hunting berries.” Allegra wisely refrained from mentioning the latest failed spell, for their grandmother had despaired of ever teaching her youngest granddaughter the skills the others enjoyed with such ease.
“The lass does have a fondness for sweets. As does Jeremy.” Wilona frowned. “Still, it isn’t fair to leave you with the garden chores while they’re off playing.”
“I don’t mind, Gram.” Allegra scraped at the earth, dislodging a patch of weeds. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here. This is as pleasant to me as the water is to Kylia, and the soothing forest to Gwenellen.”
“I understand, for it was always the same with me.” The older woman filled her pockets with greens before turning away. “But you’ve already mucked the stalls and collected bundles of herbs for your mother’s potions.”
Allegra smiled at the mention of Bessie. Her gifts were many, including the ability to sing like an angel. Allegra and her sisters had learned a score of lullabyes from the old woman, who’d often sung them to sleep in their young days.
“When you finish here, come back to the cottage and help yourself to the stew Bessie and I have simmering.”
“I will, Gram.” Allegra kissed her grandmother’s cheek before returning to her work.
She had chosen this spot for the garden because it lay in a high meadow, surrounded by forest on either side. Here in the sunlight, under her watchful care, fat cabbages grew to the size of a man’s head. Neat rows of kale and chard grew alongside sage and thyme.
It wasn’t an easy task to keep the wild things from taking over the garden plot. It took diligence on Allegra’s part. She devoted several hours each day during the short summer months to tilling the soil and attacking the weeds that threatened. Her mother and grandmother had taught her how to build a wattle fence of green willow branches and twigs, intricately woven to keep the forest creatures at bay.
Around her, the meadow was a sea of heather, the graceful purple blossoms swaying in the gentle breeze. Out of nowhere a shadow fell over her. Puzzled, she glanced heavenward. A hawk, perhaps. Or a thundercloud. The sky was sunny and clear, without a single cloud to mar its beauty. There was no sign of a bird. Alarmed, she looked around to see what had caused the shadow.
Too late, she saw the figure of a blood-spattered giant, mouth set in a tight line, eyes narrowed on her with grim concentration. In his hands was a length of plaid that he tossed over her, pinning her arms to her sides, covering her head to blot out the light and still her cries.
She struggled, and managed to kick her legs until even they were wrapped firmly. Swaddled as helplessly as an infant, she was unable to move.
She could hear the sound of his breathing as he raced through the meadow, carrying her slung over his shoulder. Once in the forest he paused to pull himself into the saddle while holding her firmly in his arms. Then the horse was running, the wind rushing past them as he urged his steed ever faster. Tree branches slapped and snagged, and she could hear the giant’s occasional muttered curse. But though they splashed through streams and clattered over rocks, never once did he pause, or even slow the pace.
Allegra struggled to clear her mind of fear, so that she could get her bearings. But all she could see in her mind’s eye was the giant. Standing as tall as a tree. Hands big and rough and bruising as they bound her. And that one brief glimpse into his eyes. Eyes filled with utter darkness.
How had he bested the dragon? Could it be that this giant was even stronger than the mighty creature that stood guard over their kingdom? The thought terrified her.
The horse slowed to a walk and Allegra could hear the splash of water. Moments later she was shivering as the water soaked her bindings.
Her heart sank. This had to be the Enchanted Loch, the barrier that had always kept her and her family safe from the outside world. Once her abductor made it to the other side, he would be free to take her anywhere, and she would be unable to stop him.
She had to act now, or all would be lost.
Concentrating all her energy, she conjured an image of her mother, and as the image came into focus, called out to her in her mind.
Nola sat at her loom, pleased with the design she was weaving. At her feet sat Bessie. Despite the old woman’s fearsome looks, she was a gentle soul who had long ago forgiven those who had mocked and reviled her. In gratitude for the haven she’d been given here in the Mystical Kingdom, she was devoted to Nola and her family.
The fabric on Nola’s loom looked as though it had been spun by angels. Soft as a spider’s web it was, with fine, intricate spirals that looped one into the other like exotic jewels.
Old Bessie smiled. “This will make a lovely gown for one of your daughters.”
“Aye. I so enjoy making them pretty things.”
“And why not?” Bessie’s smile deepened. “They’re fairer than any flowers.”
At a cry Nola’s head came up sharply. “Allegra?”
She looked around for her daughter. Seeing no one, she glanced at the old woman. “Did you hear that?”
“Nay. But then I don’t have your gifts, Nola.”
At that Nola shoved away from the loom and walked to the door of the cottage.
Outside, Wilona was stirring her stew over an open fire.
“Allegra
